Yuletide
by Handy-for-the-bus
Summary: A Christmas One Shot


**_Merry Christmas to all of you, and a very happy New Year!_**

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 **Yuletide**

The snowflakes, still glistening on his bowler hat and broad shoulders, melt fast as John Bates walks into the warm parlour. His arrival is met by giggles and decorations scattered on the floor. A fire in the hearth burns low, but sure, and from the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked ginger and cinnamon biscuits assails his still rosy nose.

In their home, it's warm and cosy and lovely, and he takes in the image of his wife and son, doing their best with the pine tree he had set up earlier that day. Neither notices his presence until he speaks.

'Here now, I thought you were going to wait for me.'

'Oh! Look, daddy's home!' Anna says, standing up from the floor at once and walking to her husband. She kisses his cheek and wraps her arms around his middle; he's cold from the air outside, but the feeling of her warmth around his body makes him sigh.

'And Mummy and Will are decorating the tree without me,' John insists, placing a kiss atop his wife's head. Her hair smells of home and lavender, mixed with fire and those biscuits he can't wait to eat.

'Nonsense!' she answers. 'We were just organising the decorations…figuring what we have and such…'

'You mean…' John looks around; those same decorations all over the floor, and a busy little boy crawling after the small red balls that were supposed to be "organised".

'Well, as if I can do any better with Mister William Bates. You know he loves to help me.'

'Oh, I do!' John chuckles, snatching up his son as the little boy crawls past them, following one of the round decorations that had just slipped from his tiny, chubby hands; he did try his best to grab them all at once, but alas he was still too little for such task. 'Come here, you cheek!'

As soon as his father holds him high up in the air, all is forgotten, and the boy can't help but squeal with joy, flailing his limbs with great energy.

'Are you enjoying your first Christmas tree?' John asks, bringing the baby against his chest and kissing him before brushing that one lock of golden hair out of the way, only to be met by blue, clear eyes looking attentively at him, trying to answer but yet not knowing the words to do so. He recognises his son's smile as his own; maybe the only feature little Will has taken after him, and for that he's glad.

'So much he tried to eat it twice already. He puts everything in his mouth these days,' Anna shares, pinching her son's flushed cheek.

'He's at the age...trying to discover the world on the tip of his tongue. And speaking of that...what about those biscuits? I could smell them from the end of the road.'

'Goodness me! Really?' She squints her eyes in disbelief. 'As I said, we were waiting for you. I'll make us a tray...and while I do that, you can gather everything so we can start!'

With that Anna walks to the kitchen, humming one of those annoying Christmas tunes that John only bares because she sings them.

'Come on, son,' John says once his wife is out of sight, placing little Will on the floor and joining the boy there. 'Let's get everything together so we can start to decorate the tree. Oh, it's going to be such a beautiful tree! You know...last year, Mum and Papa forgot all about it,' John continues, trying his best to keep up with the task; although the boy is more interested in watching the balls roll around. 'You were still in Mummy's tummy, and we were so eager to meet you. Making plans, preparing the house for you - '

'So your Papa tossed a few ribbons on the plant by the window,' Anna offers, as she comes back in the parlour carrying the tray with tea and biscuits, smiling and with memories of last year's Christmas going through her mind. 'Our last minute Christmas tree...and honestly, it was the best Christmas ever. The happiest.'

'So true, my darling,' John agrees with a chuckle, remembering the small green plant festooned with bits and pieces of ribbons scavenged from Anna's sewing basket and a handmade star at the top, causing it to bend dangerously so. 'But, I have a feeling that this year will beat it by far.'

'Oh, I have no doubt!'

She places the tray on the side table by the settee then and joins her two boys on the floor. Decorating finally begins! And hours later, after many biscuits and cups of tea, the tree was made with a handful of presents placed underneath. Most of the red balls had rolled under chairs and furniture, and more than a few ribbons had been drooled on, but one thing John had been right about; this was the best Christmas ever - thus far.

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 **Thank you all for reading :)**


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